


Evergreen Grove

by FrickinAngel



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: College of Winterhold - Freeform, Elder Scrolls V, F/M, Love, Mages, Magic, Magic-Users, Multi, Romance, Sex, Sexuality, Sexy, Skyrim - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 01:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4040896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrickinAngel/pseuds/FrickinAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What was it about Spriggans?  Onmund knew that some men called the Wood Wives.  He wasn't the first Nord to fall for the mysterious, lithe magical creatures, and he wouldn't be the last.  At least his Dragonborn approved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evergreen Grove

What was it about Spriggans? Mysterious, lithe and powerful, they were lit from within and looked as if they were carved from smooth, gnarled wood. Onmund always felt a tug from somewhere behind his belly button whenever he and the Dragonborn encountered one. They stood tall and fierce, staring their foes down with eyes more like live coals than orbs of sight. The way they moved so gracefully made his breath catch in his throat. 

He would never tell the Dragonborn, but he wished they didn't have to kill Spriggans when they saw one. He had long wished for some way to communicate with the magical woodland women. Their only mission in life seemed to be protecting the small wooded glades and forest animals like zealous (but lovely) female warriors. 

Though he had searched diligently whenever he had a spare hour or two away from the Dragonborn, he had yet to come across a single line in any of the ancient tomes that lined the dusty shelves of Winterhold's Arcaneum. 

He had finally begun cautiously approaching all of the various professors at the college with his questions. Enthir had out and out laughed him out of his office, seeing through his alleged curiosity immediately. "Too many young mages have fallen for the woodland wiles of the Spriggans, Onmund. Get your head--and your loins--out of the woods and back to work!" That was embarrassing enough. But worse still was Faralda, the Destruction Mistress.

She had sneered, "Many the foolish man has succumbed to the Spriggan obsession. My advice to you is to forget those woodland sirens, and find yourself a real woman!" She had then stepped far too close to him, cocked her hip and put one hand suggestively on his chest. What was it with these forward female mages, he wondered?

Finally, while the Dragonborn delivered a tome they had fought through Ansilvund, a huge ancient Nord ruin to find, he approached Master Tolfdir late one afternoon as he was reading quietly in his room. The old professor had looked curiously over the rims of his spectacles at Onmund for a moment, before saying,"The answer is in the very copy of the Oghma Infinium which you and the Dragonborn brought to us only a month ago."

Onmund felt a shiver of excitement run through him. The Dragonborn hadn't even let him touch the rare book, so he'd had no idea what treasures it contained. "You mean to say it's a spell, Master?"

Tolfdir shook his head, and the wispy white hairs on his head rose up like a nimbus of goose down. "No, no. It is a very complex alchemical potion, Onmund. You did study alchemy before you began following the Dragonborn, did you not?"

Onmund found himself nodding enthusiastically. He had loved his alchemy classes. In fact, just like Destruction magic, he had excelled at alchemy while still in school. He had come to the College figuring on eventually setting himself up in a thaumaturgical hut in some tiny hamlet and finding himself a beautiful woman of good Nord stock like himself. 

But then the Dragonborn had come along. . . She had bewitched him from the moment she'd shown up late to their first lesson with Master Tolfdir. She had been the only student capable of casting a ward spell the first time she'd tried. It had soon become apparent to everyone around her what a powerful mage she would become. And powerful women always intrigued Onmund. 

"Oh yes, professor!" He said. "Now, where would one find the Oghma Infinium, if one were to wish to learn how to create such a potion?" He tried to look innocent, but Tolfdir obviously saw right through him, like everyone else. 

At least Tolfdir only laughed. "I, too, felt the lure of the Mystical Spriggan when I was a young lad. Beware those talons they sport, Onmund. You may find that you've gotten more than you bargained for after tangling with one of them!" He shook his head ruefully. "Why, I still have a scar on my left thigh that--well, never mind. . ."

"Yes, sir," Onmund said, his face reddening. 

"I believe Urag has the book under lock and key in the Arcaneum at the moment, if he hasn't loaned it out to another University."

Onmund thanked him and left the old man, chortling and muttering into his alteration book. 

________________

He hurried through the cold, drafty stone halls, directly for the Arcaneum, where he was told by Urag in no uncertain terms to be incredibly careful with the unique book. "I don't care if the Arch Mage is your girlfriend. If you harm this book, you'll answer to me. So use these white gloves and don't get your grubby human oil on the pages, boy!" Urag growled, sliding the book reluctantly across the counter to Onmund. 

Onmund figured the Dragonborn must've been catching some well-needed rest in her Arch-Mage's chambers, so he had some time to find and perhaps even begin crafting the potion. 

He sat down at one of the long, scarred tables in the Arcaneum to flip through the desiccated book, filled with arcane symbols and unknowable runes, lost to time, hearing Urag occasionally grunt in annoyance when he thought Onmund had turned a page too forcefully. Silence descended around him like fog when he finally found the potion near the middle of the book. Extravagantly titled, "A potion to maketh conversation with the lusty Maidens of the Wood", it combined both highly unusual and extremely mundane ingredients: 

1 Ancestor Moth Wing, ground to a fine powder at midnight  
1 Bee, chopped coarsely with the back of a Daedric blade  
1 Blue Butterfly Wing, torn into seven equal pieces by hand  
1 Crimson Nirnroot, burned and converted to ash  
Half a Daedra Heart, dried and ground to a fine powder  
And finally and fittingly, Onmund thought, a Taproot, soaked in two drams of Sleeping Tree Sap for 13 hours and chopped coarsely, reserving the sap aside for marinating the potion.

He was to mix all of these ingredients together in the remaining Sleeping Tree Sap for exactly three hours, swirling the bottle Widdershins every hour on the hour. At the end of the three hours, the potion should become a smooth, pearlescent lavender syrup with a rich mossy scent and a slightly sweet taste. The recipe indicated that all he needed to do was take a mere mouthful of the syrup in order to be able to communicate with Spriggans any time he liked. 

"Yes!" He shouted, leaping up and knocking his chair to the stone floor with a loud bang. 

"Not so fast, Mage!" Urag snapped. "That book stays here with me."

"But, Master Urag, how will I--"

"You'll copy your blasted recipe on a piece of parchment like everyone else does with rare books, young man!"

Onmund sighed and trudged off to find a piece of parchment and a quill. "And see that you don't splatter ink on the book. It's very rare!" Urag grumped, hovering over Onmund with his great Orc fists clenched and gnashing his teeth. 

"Yes, Master Urag. . ." He scribbled as fast as he could and rushed off to the Hall of Countenance, calling out a hasty, "Thank you, Master!" Over his shoulder to Urag, who harumphed irritably as usual and didn't reply. 

________________

The best part about being at the college was that there was a seemingly endless supply of virtually any alchemical ingredient one could hope for at each of the alchemical tables. Students were constantly sent out all over Skyrim to gather plants, herbs and other ingredients. Onmund quickly gathered the what he needed and began the process of creating the potion. 

Fortunately, after many of their longer quests, the Dragonborn was often exhausted and slept for a day, straight through. He used to worry about this when he first began following her, but quickly saw that she expended such huge amounts of magicka and stamina killing Draugrs and malevolent magical entities that it left her health in poor condition at the end. Sleeping rejuvenated her immeasurably. 

He sometimes joined her, cuddling her in the warmth of his arms as she breathed softly, loving the feel of her smooth skin under his fingertips. He slept well spooned together with her, lost in whatever dreams a woman with the soul of an ancient dragon had. But not this time. At least not yet, he mused. 

After he had done everything else and the taproot had been marinating for six hours, at midnight, he carefully ground the Ancestor Moth wing to a fine powder with his mortar and pestle. Now he could go to bed and wait for the final step: mixing the potion together. He was exhausted and ready for sleep.

______________

He slipped into the darkened Arch-Mage quarters, took off his outer robes and slid into bed with the Dragonborn. She was warm and soft when he wrapped his arm around her waist from behind. When he moved her long, wavy lavender-scented hair aside to plant a kiss on her neck, she whispered something he couldn't understand, snuggled back into his embrace and fell back to sleep. 

He slipped into an uneasy dream about their trip through Ansilvund: skeletons grinding their teeth as they prowled around with bows and arrows, the distant plink of dank water against ancient stone floors and the growl of Draugr Death Lords with Ebony swords.

________________

When he woke up again, the Dragonborn, who he called Kindred, which was her birth name, had turned to face him and was murmuring his name softly as she stroked her fingers through his short hair. "Mmmmm," he moaned and pulled her closer for a kiss that lasted long enough for them to both gasp for breath when they pulled back. 

"I missed you, Onmund," she said. He could barely see her beautiful, angular face in the dim witch light of the room, but he knew what it looked like: big, green eyes fringed with dark lashes, staring into his eyes and daring him to try to escape her arms. He didn't want to. "Where were you?" She asked, smoothing her fingers over the dark stubble on his jaw.

"Working on a potion, my love," he told her, bending down to kiss the hollow between her shoulder and her neck, something he knew she loved. He was rewarded with a happy moan from her, and she slid her hand down his back and slung one of her long legs over his hip and pulled their pelvises together, so she could feel his hardness between her legs. 

How could someone who was such a legendary warrior also be so beautiful and enticing, he wondered for the thousandth time as he reached between them to cup one of her firm, round breasts, smoothing the ball of his thumb over her erect nipple and making her groan happily. She kissed him, her mouth greedy, taking his bottom lip between her teeth, which always drove him crazy. He rolled her over onto her back and kissed his way down between her breasts, over the flatness of her belly and down to the downy, musky softness between her legs. He loved to make her feel good this way.

He eased her legs apart and began to kiss her just how she liked it, slow and smooth, until she begged him to go inside her. "If it will help you, then certainly," he joked. He certainly wouldn't complain.

She pulled him against her and reached down to guide him into the warm, moist center of his Dovahkiin, reveling in the feeling of their bodies moving against each other, marveling at his luck to be with such an incredible woman. 

It didn't take them long to come to a throbbing vortex of ecstasy together, both moaning with pleasure and holding each other tightly, their sweaty bodies fast cooling in the chilly air of the stone room. They lay together for a while, Kindred tracing runes on his back with her fingertip until they both fell asleep.

__________________

Early the next morning, they woke in a deliciously warm jumble of limbs under the covers to the sound of mourning doves cooing outside on the stone balcony. Onmund kissed Kindred awake and asked if she had a pressing quest to get to right away. "Not yet, thankfully," she said, yawning and stretching luxuriantly against him, which made him yearn to stay in bed with her all over again. 

But he got up and told her he was working on a potion that needed a few more hours to complete. "If it works, I may have a favor to ask of you," he said. 

"Anything, my love," she murmured, winking at him as she headed down to the College Dining Hall for some breakfast with the other mages. 

Tempting, he thought, as he walked to the Hall of Countenance to begin the final part of the potion. Once there, he checked the taproot and could already smell the faint mossy scent the final potion was supposed to have. He carefully drained the taproot of Sleeping Tree Sap and chopped the taproot into chunks. 

Then, he put everything into a copper alembic, mixed all the ingredients together in alphabetical order with a long-handled wooden spoon and carefully poured the whole mixture into a glass flask. Now, all that remained was to swirl the contents Widdershins every hour on the hour for the next three hours. 

________________

Each time Onmund swirled the potion the correct direction, the ingredients smoothed out a little more and began to coalesce into a rather beautiful pearly-lavender syrup, just as predicted by the recipe. He felt excited and impatient, often jiggling one knee up and down fast while he waited, sometimes tapping his fingertips on the tabletop or humming tunelessly as he stared at the potion. 

Kindred brought him a bowl of sweet porridge and a cup of tea somewhere in all this time and he ate it absently while she drifted in and out of the room, watching him in a bemused way. Finally, just after noon, he swirled the potion one final time and was rewarded with the rich mossy scent he had hoped for. The potion was done! 

He knew just which Spriggan grove he wanted to visit: the inhabitants of Falkreath hold called it Evergreen Grove. A small pond, perpetually covered in shifting witch mist with tiny standing moss-covered stones interspersed evenly throughout the water. No one knew just what those stones had been used for anymore, but they only added to the beauty of the sacred place. That and the small waterfall that gushed into one end of the pond over a small outcropping of rocks. As the name suggested, it was surrounded by lush evergreen trees and smelled of balsam fir and moist soil. 

When he had stumbled upon the grove alone, many years before he met Kindred, a single wary Spriggan had materialized out of an Oak tree and stared at him. He could still see the dusty-looking beams of sunlight that had shone down through the mist as he stood, mesmerized by the beauty of the wood lady until he bowed to her and backed out of the grove to leave her alone.

He'd never forgotten the experience. And because of that one connection, it had very nearly broken his heart every time Kindred had nocked an arrow to end one of the beautiful creatures' life in their travels around Skyrim.

He put a stopper in the potion bottle and went off in search of Kindred. He was tired, but proud of his potion work as he stepped outside into the courtyard to a beautiful, crisp winter afternoon. The sun glinted off the Mage statue's perpetually open arms and made the normally brilliant blue font of swirling magicka look dim in comparison.

_______________

It took him a while to find Kindred. She was standing on top of the hall of countenance, looking out over the wintry landscape toward the Northern Ocean, one hand shading her eyes. She always seemed to feel the most at home here at the College. A lone eagle flew in wide, lazy circles over the water in the distance. He was gratified to see that she wore her arch mage robes instead of the Ebony Mail that was so good for stealthy travel around dungeons and ruins. That meant she still didn't have any quests in mind for the time being. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, lacing his fingers together across her belly. "Hello, my love," he whispered into her ear, her wavy hair tickling his nose.

She turned towards him and slid her arms around his waist, pulling him in closer and kissed him. As always, he felt stirrings, deep inside at the feel of her lips on his and he kissed her back. "Good day," she said when she pulled back to smile at him. "How did your potion making turn out?"

He pulled the bottle out of the pocket of his Destruction robes and held it up proudly so it would catch the bright sunlight. The contents seemed to shimmer and undulate of their own accord. She took it from him, staring at it for a moment, before saying, "Beautiful. Now would you care to enlighten me as to what this mysterious draught is supposed to accomplish?" There was a twinkle in her eyes that suggested she might know just what he was up to. She always did, he reflected. Perhaps Tolfdir had told her what he was up to at the breakfast table. The old mage could be a terrible gossip at times.

He cleared his throat and said, "Well, it's a potion to allow one to. . . converse with Spriggans."

She smirked at this. Clearly, he hadn't been as secretive about his feelings for the mysterious woodland women as he'd thought he was being. Perhaps he had lingered too long, looking sadly upon their dead bodies after Kindred killed them. "Is it now?" She asked ironically, arching one eyebrow. She often enjoyed teasing him. She thought he could be too serious at times.

He blushed and nodded, ducking his head a little. Then he looked at her and said, "This is the favor I wanted to ask you."

Kindred nodded, a small smile curling up one corner her mouth. "Ask away," she said.

In the light of day, the request seemed frivolous and faintly ridiculous to him. "Well I. . . I wondered if you would go with me to a Spriggan Grove I once saw and. . ."

The smile quirked a bit more on her mouth, but she gamely asked, "And?"

"And. . . talk with them," he said. "I have. . . A fascination with the creatures, Kindred."

He could see that she was trying not to giggle. "I see. . . Like your fascination with me, Onmund?"

He shook his head vigorously. "Oh, not quite at that level, but. . . Perhaps there are similarities, yes," he said, studiously avoiding looking at her face lest he should blush again.

"Then of course I will accompany you, my sweet," she said, placing one hand flat on his chest. "Anything to satisfy your needs."

He couldn't help it: he blushed again. 

"She may not wish to have me in her grove, Onmund. No doubt she will be able to sense that I have killed her kind before," Kindred told him gravely. 

"I hope that she will accept both of us," Onmund said shyly, taking both of her hands. 

"I will be fine if she doesn't, Onmund," she told him. "This will be a gift for you."

______________

Evergreen Grove was just as he had remembered it: almost ridiculously lush, fragrant and dim with small shafts of sunlight glimmering here and there. Birds chirped in the trees and clusters of butterflies flitted about the woodland flowers that dotted the clearing here and there in carpet-like patches. The sound of the small waterfall was like forest music, at once soothing and safe somehow. Spriggans kept their groves impeccably, he knew. And any animal or insect that lived near a Spriggan was not only protected but flourished while living there.

Kindred, who had never seen it before, gasped with delight, and as always when she saw something hauntingly beautiful in their travels, he felt her smaller hand slip into his, lacing their fingers together. "Incredible," she murmured, squeezing his hand, just as the Spriggan melted into view out of her tree about fifteen feet from where they stood. All of the birds fell quiet and a hush fell over the grove.

Onmund fished in the pocket of his robes for the potion bottle and drew it out slowly, not wanting to alarm the wood woman. She stared at them with her glowing, slanted eyes, her expression inscrutable, the branches that formed her headdress looking pointed and dangerous. He could hear Kindred breathing beside him. 

He lifted the bottle up, pulled the stopper out and took a small mouthful of potion. It was faintly sweet and licorice-flavored with an undertone of muskiness, probably from the taproot and Sleeping Tree sap, he reflected as he handed the bottle carefully to Kindred. She tilted the bottle up to her lips for a moment, never taking her eyes off of the beautiful Spriggan. 

About five seconds after swallowing the potion, Onmund became aware of a whispering, rustling noise, coming from all around them, as if the trees were moving in a bigger wind than there actually was overhead. 

And a moment later, he realized that the rustling sound was actually a voice, speaking to him! The Spriggan was talking through the trees somehow. He was amazed to hear her saying, "Why have you come to disturb the peace of my sacred grove, Nord?"

Kindred looked at him, her eyebrows raised as if to ask, did you just hear that? He nodded, swallowed hard and said, "I. . . We. . . do not wish to harm you, lady."

"Then you must leave this grove at once," the Spriggan's whispering free voice rustled immediately, somehow conveying urgency. "Do you hear me?"

"I do," Onmund said, bowing to her and indicating for Kindred to do the same. "However. . . I wondered if you remembered seeing me, many years ago here in this clearing?" The Spriggan inclined her head in a nod. Encouraged, Onmund went on. "Well, I have been unable to forget the sight of your beauty in all of these years, lady."

The Spriggan cocked her head at this, looking at him curiously. One bird began to sing hesitantly from somewhere out of sight. "I felt a connection to you," he confessed. 

"I am called Komorebi," the Spriggan told him. Or at least that was the closest his mind could come to understanding the way she spoke her own name. 

He knew some people called Spriggans Wood Wives. He wasn't the first male to be aroused by these exotic woodland beauties, and he wouldn't be the last, of this he was sure. "I am Onmund Nordborn and this is Kindred the Dragonborn.

Komorebi nodded at them both but didn't say a word. And then Onmund realized that he probably hadn't taken enough of the potion. He took a bigger drink now and passed the bottle to Kindred, who did the same. 

"Come to me," the Wood Wife whispered all around them and Onmund felt the hairs on the backs of his arms and hairline stand up straight with goosebumps. 

He grabbed Kindred's hand again and they walked slowly towards Komorebi, who stood with one twiggy hand against her tree, watching them approach. The soft, green grass swished beneath their feet and another bird began to chirp. 

When they had come to only a foot away from her, Onmund could smell the light, somehow spicy and floral musk that all Spriggans seemed to give off. It got into his nose and seemed to translate itself to his manhood, which instantly sprang to attention beneath his robes. 

Kindred squeezed his hand and they smiled at each other and then at Komorebi, who extended one hand to them and said, "Follow me now." They each placed their fingertips on Komorebi's upturned palm and immediately, the world around them exploded into bright green light.  
______________

When Onmund could see again, he looked around and realized that he must be inside Komorebi's tree. Kindred was nowhere to be seen, and for a moment, he was afraid that the Spriggan might have done something to hurt her. Although Kindred could certainly hold her own in any fight and had bested many an attacking Spriggan personally. He looked around and then heard the Komorebi say, "Your lover is not welcome in my sacred space. But she is at peace with this." He breathed a sigh of relief.

They were in a small but spacious room made entirely of smooth, undulating blond wood. It all seemed to be carved or formed from one giant piece and on the other side of the room was what you could only have called a nest. Made of a carpet of the softest green moss you could imagine, Onmund knew instantly that this must be where the Spriggan slept. 

Among other things, he thought, feeling his mouth go as dry as a desert with longing. Komorebi stood next to the nest, her arms at her sides, looking at him. Her entire body seemed to glow inside the tree, as if she were connected to it somehow, and Onmund supposed that she was. 

"Come to me," she said, and Onmund moved to her. Up close, she was tall and willowy but powerfully built. She took Onmund's hand in hers and placed it on her upper chest, just below the hollow of her throat. He held his fingertips there gently for a moment.

He could feel the Spriggan's heart beating slow and steady in her chest. He stroked the skin here and found it to be satiny and soft in a way that surprised him. Her breasts moved slowly up and down with each breath she took. He moved closer to her and looked up, to find her soft dark brown lips close to his. 

His heart skipped a beat and he pressed a kiss to her lips that she returned enthusiastically. She ran her long fingers over his biceps and around to the back of his robes, which she pulled up and off over his head in one swift motion, leaving him naked and erect in front of her. 

She took a step back and surveyed the territory. She must've liked what she saw, because she stepped forward again and ran her hands over his chest and the muscles of his stomach with a little moan of pleasure before pulling him down onto the carpet of moss and sinking down beside him.

It was a completely alien experience to be with a Spriggan, he thought excitedly, as she stroked the downy hairs on his thighs and then moved higher, to wrap her fingers gently around his shaft, which gave a huge throb at her touch, making her laugh and press closer to him, sliding him into her warm mouth. He nearly exploded with pleasure. She licked him and touched him for a while, until he pulled her up to his face.

His heart was hammering as he wrapped his arms around her pliant body, feeling her breasts against his chest as they kissed. He wished Kindred could've shared this experience with him, but he was glad he had her blessing. He would never do such a thing if Kindred could be hurt by it in any way. 

Komorebi ran her fingers through Onmund's short, dark hair and kissed him some more. He could sense the raw power in her. Not just magicka, but immense strength, age and wisdom. She could do whatever she wished to him here in her lair, he thought. And that turned him on even more, making him groan, just as she guided him inside the warmth of her. 

"Take me, Onmund Nordborn," she said, pulling him up on top of her to plunge into the depths of her sex, over and over again. It felt so good and intense; his entire body was tingling with pleasure. He was afraid it might all end too soon. 

She grabbed his butt cheeks with both of her strong hands, guiding him to move exactly the way she wanted him to, which he liked. His breathing became fast and ragged as she played with his nipples, bringing him almost to the brink.

It seemed to go on forever at the same time that the experience sped by. They were a blur of probing fingers, moving limbs, tongues and teeth, both of them moaning. At last he came, in a satisfying rush, and moments later, it seemed that Komorebi did too, gasping and crying something joyous out in Spriggan, a blissful smile on her face. 

They held each other on the carpet of moss until Onmund fell asleep, happily dreaming of a moonlit clearing in the woods.

________________

He woke, outside the tree, naked, with his robes puddled next to him on a patch of wildflowers, Komorebi nowhere in sight. Kindred lay next to him, one hand protectively on his chest, in her arch mage robes, a peaceful expression on her face. 

He listened to the sound of the waterfall burbling behind them, and the night music of crickets quietly chirping all around them. He looked up at the billions of stars that carpeted the night sky overhead and stared at the sliver of moon, joyfully remembering bits of the amazing sexual experience with Komorebi, a smile playing over his lips. Finally, after all these years, a dream realized. It had been worth being laughed at, that was for sure.

At last, Kindred woke up enough to lean over and kiss him, asking, "Did you get what you were hoping for, dear Onmund?"

He blushed and nodded, turning his head to kiss her back. "I did, but I wished you were there with me."

She shook her head. "No, it was best that only you enjoyed the experience. I'm glad for you."

He sat up to pull his robes over his head because he was a little chilly, and then lay back down beside her and pulled her close in a hug. "Let's go back to sleep, my love." He kissed her on the forehead and they slept peacefully in Komorebi's grove, tangled together like two little weeds in a perfect garden.

**Author's Note:**

> Komorebi is a Japanese word meaning the interplay of sunlight in the forest.
> 
> This story is dedicated to the Onmunds of the world. I am nearing the end of my third play-through of TES-V: Skyrim and I am feeling very nostalgic about leaving my beloved Onmund behind to play something else! (I'm not sure if I can. . .) I was wondering if Onmund had ever entertained fantasies about meeting up with one of those sexy Spriggan ladies in a dark forest clearing and came up with this little story and wrote it all on my iPod. Hopefully you enjoyed it!


End file.
